


A World in Which We Can Live a Happier Life

by AidanChase



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, marauders - Fandom
Genre: Gen, One Shot Collection, Prompt Fill, Prompt me!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:52:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2036184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AidanChase/pseuds/AidanChase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Comment with a date and a character and I'll write a drabble about the Harry Potter universe with that character at that time.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>"I am sorry too. Sorry I will never know him… but he will know why I died and I hope he will understand. I was trying to make a world in which he could live a happier life.” And isn't that all any of us are trying to do by living?"</i></p><p> </p><p>Chapters are updated as prompted, so they are not necessarily arranged in chronological order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. September 1, 1972

**Author's Note:**

> Comment with a date and a character and I'll write a chapter for you. 
> 
> (Hints: Sirius is the oldest Marauder, born in fall of 1959. The Marauders began school September 1st, 1971. Harry was born July 31, 1980. The Potters died Oct 31, 1981. Harry began school September 1, 1991. The Battle of Hogwarts was May 2, 1998.)

_September 1, 1972_

Remus Lupin was early this year. He felt… good.

Last year at this time, the moon had been very near full. He’d been tired, stressed, exhausted, nervous, anxious—a whole bundle of unfortunate feelings. But this time he was a week out of his transformation, recovered (though there’s a nice new scar on his wrist that nearly lost him all mobility in his wand hand), and actually excited to see his friends again.

He made his way to the back of the train, where he expected James and Sirius to end up. His mother said her goodbyes on the Muggle side of the platform, and his father said his goodbyes just outside the train. And now Remus was alone, though he knew it wouldn’t be for long.

He settled into the back of the train, trunk safely stowed below, and waited.

James arrived first, wide grin on his face, and straightened his glasses. “Hullo, Remus! Had a good summer?”

Remus nodded, and pulled unconsciously at his sleeve. “Did you?”

"Sure did! Zipping around on a broom again. Thank Godric we can bring brooms this year. Did you bring one? I don’t recall if you fly much."

"Not much."

"Well, you’ll have to borrow mine. When I’m not practicing for Quidditch, that is. I’m going to make the team this year. Been talking to the captain, and he said there’s a Chaser position opening up. I told him he could use some young blood on the team. He said I’d have to try out with everyone else. Of course, it wouldn’t be fair any other way."

As James went on, Remus smiled politely. He’d been so excited to see his friends, he’d rather forgotten their flaws. And one of James’s was that he liked to talk, a lot, and mostly about himself. Which Remus didn’t mind terribly. Some days it was better than the inquisition Sirius could bring.

"How’s your mum?"

"She’s alright," Remus said quietly. "It was ah, nice to be with her the whole summer."

"Good. You know, you’re welcome to bring her out to my place next summer. We’ve got a big estate in the country. The sun would be good for her, I bet."

"Oh. Thank you. That’s nice of you to offer."

"And of course you have to come too. Sirius and I did really miss you this summer. I showed him all the house’s secret passages. Told him he ought to show me his in exchange, but he said no. Thought that was rather rude."

"Well, you know who he lives with."

"I’ve met the Black sisters at a party or two," James shrugged. "Boringly polite, if you ask me. Anyway, where is he? Nearly eleven. I told him we’d sit in the back again."

James got up and stuck his head out of the compartment door, bumping right into Peter, who tumbled in, face smudged with his mother’s pink lipstick.

"Hullo!" he said breathlessly.

"Heya, Petey," James smiled, and Remus offered a polite, "Hello," and scooted over so Peter could sit down.

"Did you see Sirius on the platform?" James asked.

Remus thought it was rather rude to open the conversation that way, but James and Sirius alike could get stuck on a single goal and forget everyone else along the way.

Peter, judging by the small pout on his lower lip, thought it was rude, too. But he said, “I did. He was with his family. All of them.”

James stepped out of the compartment to solve the mystery of the missing Sirius Black for himself, and Remus asked Peter, “How was your summer?”

Peter’s face lit up. “It was wonderful! Mum baked, and Dad came home early one weekend and we went up camping, and Dad showed me how to pitch the tent properly, only I can’t do it myself until I’m seventeen, but at least now I know how to do it. And my sister and I went fishing in the lake, and we swam, too, and I think one bit my toe. It didn’t hurt but it felt weird.”

At least when Peter talked, it wasn’t at half the volume James could reach. Now it didn’t matter, but just before or after a full moon, Remus could very well strangle James in an attempt to keep his voice down.

"How was your summer?" Peter asked.

"It was nice."

"Did you go anywhere? Can your mom travel?"

"Oh—um, no. Not very much. We just stayed home. But we live near a wharf, so we fished too. It was nice."

"I love fishing. My brother knows these charms he puts on his lures, helps him catch a bunch of fish. He won’t teach me though. Says he thinks I’ll use it before I’m seventeen. I won’t though."

"Both your siblings are grown-up, yeah?"

Peter nodded. “John’s got a job in Diagon Alley with—”

But Peter never finished, because the door slid open and... a husk of Sirius Black walked in.

Remus didn’t know how else to describe it. It sort of reminded Remus of the way he felt just before a full moon. His posture made it look like he had a stone tied around his neck and there were dark circles under his eyes. His mouth was drawn tight, and his fingers trembled slightly. Remus wasn’t sure if it was anxiety or exhaustion, and either way, he had no idea why.

Sirius untucked his shirt, loosened his tie, and ran his hand through his hair as he sank into the seat opposite Peter and Remus.

”Did you find James?” Peter asked.

”Told me he’d be here,” Sirius said lazily.

”He just went off looking for you,” Remus explained.

”How was your summer?” asked Peter.

Sirius only shrugged and turned his head out the window.

”Regulus is starting this year, isn’t he?” Remus asked. And apparently that was the wrong question. He watched Sirius’s hand close into a tight fist, then slowly stretch and unclench as Sirius took a deep breath.

”Yeah. He’s sitting with Narcissa.”

“Oh.”

That was enough explanation. Even for Peter. They all remembered the sequence of letters that Sirius’s mother had sent first day of term. And no one expected less of the Black family. James commented that he was surprised she hadn’t sent a howler, but Sirius had bitterly replied that it wasn’t acceptable to air their dirty laundry out before others. And Sirius Black was rather dirty laundry to that household.

So no wonder he hadn’t had much of a summer.

”How’s Andromeda?” Remus tried again, picking Sirius’s favorite cousin intentionally. Something related, so he wasn’t obviously changing the subject, but hopefully something more cheerful.

And he got a half-smile out of Sirius for that. It wasn’t entirely a happy smile—vengeful might be a better word—but it was a smile.

”I think she’s doing pretty great.” He turned his head to the door. “I want to tell James, too.” He got up. “I’ll go find him, bring him back.”

"He’ll probably come back—" Remus tried, but Sirius was already gone.

"It’s just a train. They can’t exactly go far," Peter said.

"Knowing those two, they’ll find a portkey and arrive at Hogwarts three days late."

Peter laughed, and Remus cracked a small smile. He hadn’t really meant it as a joke, but it was funny, wasn’t it?

James returned a moment later—without Sirius.

"He’ll come back," James shrugged, and sat down.

James repeated some of his summer escapades to Peter, who listened with avid interest, until the door opened again.

"Sirius, there you—" but it wasn’t Sirius. Though he looked strikingly like Sirius.

"You must be Regulus," Remus said and got to his feet. Peter and James stood as well.

"Regulus Black," the boy said and shook hands with Remus.

"I’m James Potter. Sirius’s best friend," James grinned, and took Regulus’s hand. "This is Remus and Peter."

Regulus’s eyes flicked to each in turn and shook Peter’s hand. “Have you seen my brother?”

"He was just here," Peter said.

"He’ll probably be back soon," James shrugged.

Regulus was still staring quizzically at Peter and Remus. It made Remus a little uncomfortable. He tugged at the sleeve of his robe again.

"Sorry," Regulus said, "I didn’t catch your names."

"Peter and Remus, Remus and Peter," James said with a small laugh. "Sirius didn’t tell us you were dense.

"But Remus caught on, and quietly said, "Remus Lupin."

"I’ve never heard of you."

"My father’s a wizard." He swallowed hard.

Now James caught on, and seemed to stiffen. His tone of voice completely changed. “Hey, kid, no one is asking you to be here, alright? You can stay and wait for Sirius if you want, but if you want to talk about blood, you can clear off.”

Regulus’s eyes flicked to each of them in turn before he dipped his head lightly. “If you see Sirius, tell him I’ll be sitting with our friends.”

Remus knew James well enough that there was a sarcastic (and probably rude) comment coming, so he quickly said, “Of course. It was nice to meet you.”

And Regulus left.

Remus sank into a seat. He hadn’t realized how tense that conversation had made him. Being half-blood was one thing, but he couldn’t shake the worse fear of everyone finding out he was half-breed on top of it. For all the times Sirius and James said, “Blood doesn’t matter,” Remus worried that it really mattered more than they realized.

"That was completely out of line," James muttered and sat down. "Are you alright, Remus?"

"Fine."

"He shouldn’t have said that."

"He didn’t actually say anything wrong, James."

"But you could tell what he meant to say."

"He doesn’t know any different. He’s probably never even met someone like me before." Remus was sure of that.

Sirius returned, and Remus was hoping they could avoid the topic of Regulus all together. He was prepared to ask Sirius to tell them all what was so important he had to go searching for James for. But unfortunately, the moment Sirius opened the door, James began with, “Your brother’s a downright git.”

There was a rather violent fight after that. Remus hadn’t seen Sirius and James go at it so bad since their first week in school. First, Sirius defended his brother, then James told Sirius (loudly and exaggerated) what had happened, and then Sirius (even louder) said what Remus had said—that no one had taught Regulus any different, and how was that his fault, and what would Regulus think of them all now after that stunt. James spat back that maybe Sirius should go sit with his own friends and family and that was when Sirius jumped on him.

"What do we do?" Peter asked Remus as the two of them tumbled into the passage between compartments.

"Wait it out?" Remus sighed.

By the time a prefect sorted the boys out, Sirius had a black eye, a crooked nose, and couple of cracked ribs. James’s glasses were snapped in three pieces, his lip was split, and his wrist was broken.

Sirius went off somewhere else. Remus doubted it was to sit with Regulus and Narcissa.

They didn’t see him again until the feast in the Great Hall, and even then, he sat off with a couple of third years to watch the sorting. He didn’t look up when Regulus’s name was called, and Remus caught a bitter, hopeless sneer on his face when the hat called out, “Slytherin.”

Even that night in the dormitories, Sirius didn’t say a word to them. He went straight to bed and drew the curtains.

"You should apologize," Remus said to James quietly.

"For what? He punched me first."

Remus looked to Peter for help, but as usual, Peter seemed to side with James.

"You know he doesn’t get on with his family, except Regulus," Remus whispered. "So why would you go and say something like that?"

"His brother’s just like the rest of his family, and he should know it."

"And the end bit? When you told him to leave? James—you’re all he has."

James looked at Remus the way he’d looked at their Transfiguration final. Wheels turning, but they weren’t getting the answer.

"His summer was miserable," Remus tried again. "You know his family doesn’t approve of him being sorted into Gryffindor. You know he hates all the purists in Slytherin. So why, of all things, would you throw back at him what Regulus said to you, and think he’d be okay? You gave him no options."

The answer clicked and James’s face relaxed, even turned into a grin. “Fair, but I’m really not all he has. He’s got you, you know."

"I don’t think—"

"Come off it, Remus," Sirius’s voice called from the drawn curtains. "You count too. And for a quiet bloke, you whisper really loud."

"I thought you were sleeping," Remus mumbled, ears turning pink.Sirius snorted.

"Sirius, mate," James said, "I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean that, about you leaving, right?"

Sirius’s eyes flickered with something in the dim light, and Remus thought Sirius really did believe it, when James had said it (and Remus would’ve believed it too), but Sirius accepted James’s hand and apology.

"Sorry I punched you."

"I had it coming," James grinned and adjusted his newly-repaired glasses. "And hey, we can work on your brother together, alright?"

"Sure. If Cissy hasn’t sunk her fangs into him first…."


	2. February 10, 1973 - Narcissa Malfoy

_February 10th, 1973_

Narcissa was feeling rather stressed today.

Stress itself wasn’t unusual for her. She had a lot on her mind. There were her upcoming NEWTs to worry about, and as a Prefect she was determined to make Head Girl the way both her sisters had done before her. On top of that, she needed to spend a certain amount of time each day with Lucius, since he’d be graduating soon and she was not going to let him forget her once he was out of school.

And then there was her family to worry about. Andromeda had vanished and Sirius was being moody (though that was usual), and even though she hadn’t spoken to him much at school she did worry about him, running around with mudbloods and Potters, who were nearly as bad (though at least he wasn’t running around with Weasleys). And then there was Regulus, who was her little angel of a cousin, but she'd heard from another student he'd been getting up early in the morning to talk to the house elves, and she knew that as a prefect she needed to put a stop to that unfortunate behavior. She just hadn't found the right time yet.

For now, she had stopped in the library to pick up some additional research for her Defense Against the Dark Arts paper. She didn’t have enough sources about Occlumency, and was worried that the practical exam would be on that specifically.

She was flipping through a promising book with blue binding when she heard his laugh. It startled her out of her concentration. She hadn’t heard that laugh in years.

She looked around the bookcase, and saw Sirius sitting with his friends—James Potter was easy to recognize with his messy hair and glasses that took up half his face. There was the pudgy one, face smeared in something (goodness one of his friends should tell him), and then the scrawny blond one. She knew he had a nice Latin name, but she couldn’t remember for the life of her what it was. Surely that at least meant he had a nice, prestigious family.

She didn’t know what Sirius was laughing at, but he was holding his side with one hand, and covering his mouth with the other while the blond one tried to quiet him. Eventually his laugh turned into a silent, breathless show of mirth and he gripped his blond friend for support, burying his face into his friend’s shoulder.

"James, stop it," the blond boy hissed.

James only shrugged his shoulders with a half-smile.

Sirius continued his laughter, but one hand grasped desperately for a book off the table. It closed around one and he threw it straight at James’s head. James ducked under it, and Narcissa thought that as a prefect, she ought to go and say something. She took a step towards the boys.

But then James waved his wand and said something she couldn’t hear and Sirius stopped laughing. He took in several deep breaths of air and tried to reach for James, but the Latin-name boy held him back. They exchanged a few whispers before Sirius turned his wand on James, and now James doubled over laughing. Sirius grinned and tipped back on the legs of his chair. When James fell out of his chair from laughing, hand clutching desperately at the table, the blonde one waved his wand and James stopped laughing. The four boys were all smiles as they flipped through their books again.

As a prefect, she ought to go say something. But as his cousin, she thought, she could walk away just this once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you weren't sure--the boys were using the tickling hex on each other.


	3. December 23, 1973

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt from tumblr user caprizantgrammarian-- December 23, 1973, Minerva McGonagall

_December 23, 1973_

Christmas was always a strange time of year for Professor McGonagall. She loved the energy of it. She loved seeing her students excited about the holidays and watching them get ready to go home after months of being away. But then very suddenly, the castle was quiet. A few students remained behind, and she was of course available to them, but certainly no student wanted a teacher hovering over their shoulder during the holidays, and so she gave them their space.

She spent her day grading exams and sending letters home to students that needed extra help. It wasn’t so much to alert the parents that the child was failing as it was to provide tips on how to better improve in the coming months. Although, as she began a letter to Mr. and Mrs. Potter, it was very much to let the parents know how the child was doing.

"While James possesses a natural talent for the art of Transfiguration and a natural bend of the mind to its theories and calculations, his attitudes towards his classmates are arrogant and border on bullying. I expect this will be appropriately dealt with at home, as the allowed punishments of such behavior at school seem to only encourage him."

She elaborated on a few of James’s troublesome behaviors, particularly hexing other students, and signed her name. She waved the parchment gently to dry the ink a little faster, then set it aside and began the letter she’d been putting off until the very last moment: Sirius Black’s.

She knew it was her duty as Head of House to inform his parents of all the trouble he’d gotten himself into. She also knew she’d received a steady stream of letters Sirius’s first week at Hogwarts that were very forceful in their insistence that Sirius Black be removed from Gryffindor House and placed into Slytherin, even though she had said very plainly in every reply that this was not an option.

She had just penned, “To Mr. and Mrs. Orion Black,” when there was a tapping at the window of her office.

A spotted owl was gently knocking its beak against her window and she quick went to let it in.

"Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting to see you," she said to the owl and took the parchment from its beak. She knew the hand writing and once and was already mentally writing a gentle refusal.

The owl fluttered to her desk, clearly ready to wait for an immediate reply. It ruffled his feathers and surveyed its curved reflection in her porcelain teapot.

She undid the wax seal and opened the letter up. It began, expectedly, with “Dearest Minnie.”

She let out a gentle sigh and sat back down in her chair.

Elphinstone Urquart was a man who never restrained his feelings once he’d made them known. Minerva was very aware of his love—he’d proposed marriage more than once—but she never accepted. He was a very dear friend, but it would be wrong to accept his proposal when she loved another man very dearly, even if that other love would never come to fruition.

But his letter remained peppered with gentle praises to her, all things he would have said in good earnest had he been sitting across from her. And she would have politely smiled, maybe blushed lightly, and carried on the conversation as if he said nothing of the sort.

And that was how she replied to his letter. She politely declined his request to spend Christmas in London with him, citing her students as a reason to stay behind, sealed the letter, and sent it off with the owl. She closed the window behind it, in an effort to keep the cold out of the tower.

She finished her tea and again looked down at the letter she had begun to the Black family. She began with, “Sirius’s talent in school subjects is remarkable. He has a natural talent for Transfiguration and a healthy interest in Defense Against the Dark Arts.” She paused again, not sure where or how to continue.

Instead, she waved her wand and replaced her tea and biscuits. She nibbled slowly on a biscuit, in an effort to further delay this letter to the Blacks. She wondered if she should see if Slughorn had finished his letter for Regulus. He might have a better idea on appropriately communicating with the Black family, since he’d also had the three Black sisters.

By the time she finished her biscuit, there was another gentle rapping at her window. She looked up to find the owl had returned.

She let it back in and took the letter from it. The ink on her name was smudged, like it had been hastily sent.

She opened it with a sigh.

"Dear Minnie,

I knew it was a long shot to get you to spend the holiday with me. But as you are technically on a break from classes and some of your duties as a teacher, I think you should come Hogsmeade right now for a cup of tea or something stronger. I promise that any work you think you have to do will still be waiting when you get back. Don’t reply. Just come to town with Athena. I’ll be waiting in the same spot I proposed to you last time. And the time before that. And the time before that.

With Love,

Elphinstone”

For the last ten years he’d signed “with love” and hadn’t bothered signing his last name. Minerva still signed her letters with “sincerely” though she had transitioned from “Minerva McGonagall” to just “Minerva.” She was not quite ready to sign them as “Minnie.”

With a sigh, she looked at the owl—at Athena.

"I suppose," she said and folded the letter back up. The owl cooed at her and followed her down stairs and out of the castle grounds. It circled above her as she made the short walk into Hogsmeade and arrived at the doorstep of Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop.

Elphinstone Uruquart was waiting on a bench just outside the shop and smiled pleasantly at her. “Pleasure to see you, Minnie, as always.”

"Thank you. It’s good to see you," and she inclined her head gently.

She opened the door for the two of them and they took a seat at one of three tables that was not under a bough of mistletoe.

Elphinstone was as friendly as ever. Reserved in manners, but never in smiles or laughter. It was obvious to anyone watching that he was a man very in love, and Minerva, for a moment, wished she had the capacity to love him back, but she wasn’t sure she did.

So she was grateful that as free as he was with his love, she never felt beholden to any obligations. She’d made herself very clear fifteen years ago, “Elphinstone, I am very flattered, and I appreciate our friendship, but I’m in love with another man.

"A man you will never marry."

"Then I will never marry."

Though Elphinstone had never given up on changing her mind, it had almost become something of a joke between them. He would propose, and she would smile and politely refuse. If he went away from those days hurt and in pain, she never knew about it. He was nothing but friendly and kind to her. And their friendship was something so strong and so deep, she wasn’t sure lies could exist between the two of them.

So they spoke freely. He told her about his work at the ministry. She told him about her students.

She told him about seventh-year Helena Prewett who was afraid to go home to her family and wouldn’t say why. About Helena’s boyfriend, sixth-year Stephen Candor who mumbled his muggle-born status under his breath and also was afraid go home but he only said, “for reasons opposite Helena.” And Elphinstone nodded, because he understood, because he’d been in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for many years and was watching the tide of ideas turning. He knew exactly what those children were afraid of.

"It’s the thirties all over again," he said gravely and shook his head.

"Is this how it was then, too? Quiet whispers and locked doors and a growing sense of dread that we can’t hide the children from?" she sighed. She’d been very small then, and in the countryside of Scotland rather protected from the worst of it. By the time she was old enough to understand, Gellert Grindewald was locked up in a castle and Berlin was cut into two.

"I’m sure you’ve seen the tension growing between the children. They know what’s coming. And they understand it better than we do. They’re bolder where their parents are not."

Minerva thought back to the number of times she’d heard the word, ‘mudblood’ used just in the last three months. She thought about how many first years she’d escorted to the hospital wing. Originally, she’d blamed students like Black, Potter, Avery, and Snape for such public confrontations that resulted in side-casualties. But maybe it really was all the students, who didn’t understand what they’d overheard in whispers at home yet absorbed it anyway.

The conversation was suddenly much more subdued. Minerva mentioned a few articles she’d read in the Daily Prophet that expressed a trend shift in the world view of Muggle-born witches and wizards. Elphinstone told her about a piece of legislation that required muggle-born witches and wizards to register with the Ministry.

"They say it’s to make a study of how it happens. It hasn’t been passed yet, and I’m not sure it will, but it’s the start of something. And I think we all know where registration ends."

Minerva thought sadly of little Remus Lupin, who, as desperate as he was to finish school with high marks so he could work, would be barred from every Ministry position, and any other position that was important enough to check names against Ministry registers. “It’s an awful thing,” she said quietly, “to prevent someone from living a full life because of prejudices against things they cannot help.”

She thought of muggle-born Lily Evans, one of the brightest students, at the top of half her classes, and in the top five in the rest. She thought again of Helena and Stephen and how close the Prewetts were to the Blacks and that Helena would probably never be comfortable bringing her boyfriend home. She thought of Sirius Black and the letter she had to write home.

"I’m afraid I do still have work to do," she said and got to her feet.

Elphinstone stood. “I’m sorry that wasn’t the most pleasant of conversations we’ve had.”

"But it was a necessary one."

The walk back to Hogwarts was quiet. When they arrived at the castle gate, Elphinstone pulled a small box from the pocket of his robes.

"Oh, dear, you shouldn’t have," Minerva said worriedly. "I haven’t had a chance to get you anything at all."

"It’s alright," he smiled. "You can send it over post when you do." And he laughed.

She smiled gently and opened the box. It was a ruby red broach. Far brighter and more opulent than any broach she already owned.

"Oh—oh my—"

"I know it’s nice but—you’re always in green. I thought you might like something red to take to your Quidditch games."

Minerva laughed. “Goodness, I think this is a little expensive to take to a Quidditch match.”

"Is it?" his brow furrowed. "Witches broaches are priced so differently I never really know."

"Oh, don’t feel bad. It’s a lovely broach. I’m not sure I’ll bring myself to wear it to Quidditch matches, but I’ll certainly wear it to all the fancy dinner parties I get invited to."

"Maybe I should be passing along fancy dinner party invitations, eh? It’d be nice not to go alone. You know, if we were married, you could come to all the fancy dinner parties the Ministry has."

"That is possibly your worst proposal yet. I think I’d much rather attend Quidditch matches than any parties thrown by the Ministry."

"I think I might too," he agreed.

There was a small moment of silence, and Minerva thought for a brief moment, in that quiet, that she could say yes. She could marry Uruquhart, they could live in a small cottage in Hogsmeade, they could attend Hogwarts Quidditch matches together and live happily—but with a sharp pain in her heart she thought of McGregor, and how much her love for him consumed her, and there was not enough to give to Elphinstone. Not enough to marry him. It wasn’t fair to him.

"Well, have a happy Christmas," she smiled.

"You do the same." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Shall we see each other again over Easter?"

"Or—perhaps for New Years. Are there fancy dinner parties for that with the Ministry?"

Elphinstone looked as happy as if she’d accepted his proposal of marriage. “I wasn’t planning on attending, but we could go for the food and leave afterwards. I would love to spend my New Years with you.”

"Then New Years it is," she smiled. "Now I’d better go before any of the students see and start passing along rumors."

"Of course," he laughed. "I’ll see you in a week."

She waved goodbye as she stepped onto the grounds of the castle and as she reached the doors, she heard a distant crack of Elphinstone apparating away.

She went back up to her office and sat down at her desk. The letter to the Black family was just where she left it, with a single sentence about Sirius Black’s excellent work in Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

She looked that sentence over, then added, “He is a pleasure to have as a student,” signed her name, put it into a parchment, and sealed it with the Hogwarts crest.


	4. November 10, 1973

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius is dying of the common cold and Remus is the only one around to care for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not a prompt fill. Just bred from a few jokes with some very good friends.

"Are you sure you guys can’t come?" James asked one last time, hand on the door. Peter was already bundled up and ready to go.

Remus, however, leaned heavily against his bed post. “And leave the drama queen to fend for himself? It’s alright. Besides, I’m kind of… achy today.”

James checked the wrist watch he’d made that summer, charmed to change colors with the phases of the moon. Except when he arrived at school, instead of being impressed, Remus had insisted it be less obvious, so he made the face red, with gold that waxed and waned with the moon. The face of his watch was nearly covered in gold. “Ah. Rest up. Peter, why don’t you bring them tea while I warm up?”

"But it’s the first game of the year and—" Peter started.

"You won’t miss the match if you hurry. I’ll see you on the pitch!" And James was gone as quickly as if he’d apparated.

"It’s alright, Peter. Go on to the game," Remus said with a small smile. "I’m not an invalid today. We’ll manage."

Peter glanced wistfully between Sirius and Remus before disappearing out the door. He poked his head back in suddenly to say, “Thanks, Remus,” with a wide grin.

About an hour later, Sirius woke up, moaning about his sinuses.

"I’ll walk you to Madam Pomfrey," Remus said.

"But she’ll make you stay too." Sirius’s complaints were more humorous than obnoxious with his completely stuffed nose. "And you hate that."

"Only when we have class. But it’s Saturday." Remus shrugged his shoulders. "I can get us soup and tea from the kitchens."

Sirius sneezed loudly. “Fine. But take James’s cloak.”

"I couldn’t without asking—"

"He’d be upset if you didn’t." And Sirius sneezed again. "Hurry, I’m dying."

Remus didn’t have the heart to tell him that hurrying wasn’t really an option given the ache in his bones, but he found James’s cloak folded neatly at the bottom of his otherwise messy wardrobe. It was one of the few things Jams treated sacramentally, which made borrowing it without permission feel that much worse.

Mostly the problem was that the Gryffindor tower was at the top of the castle, and the kitchens were at the bottom. It was a very long walk down, and by the time Remus reached the kitchens, his joints hurt so badly that the house elves insisted he take a cup of tea there, and they would bring the food to his room when he returned. If it was showing that much on his face, it really must be more than he could put off. Or he’d just gotten too used to being honest around his friends these days.

Either way, by the time Remus got back to his room, it was nearly two hours later. He checked out the window and the Quidditch game seemed to still be on. There was no way to make out which speck on the horizon was James.

"Where’ve you been?" Sirius said groggily, and still unable to breathe through his nose. "I fell asleep and—"

Hot soup and a cup of tea appeared on each of their bedside tables.

"Beside service? Amazing." Sirius reached for his soup without sitting up and ended up spilling a spoonful, with a swear that lost all threat when said through a stuffed up nose. "Moony, feed me," he whined.

"I’m not feeding you," Remus said emphatically and sat down in his own bed, curling his hands around his cup of tea.

Sirius sneezed. “I’ll starve if you don’t.”

"You’ll manage."

"At least sit with me."

"And catch? Yeah, that’s what I need tomorrow."

Sirius sneezed again. “Remus I’m dying. The least you can do is pretend to care.”

"I’m not going to spend tomorrow recovering from a bad cold and some bad bites, thanks."

"Maybe a common cold is the cure. Maybe the irony of trying to cure the cold is that it’s been a cure for werewolfism this whole time."

"You say that like I’ve never had a cold and a transformation at the same time."

"I’m sure there’s an answer—" Sirius sneezed.

"I know you treat everything like a joke, but my condition is nothing to sneeze at."

The dorm room hung in silence. It was such a heavy pause, Remus wondered if he had crossed a line somehow. And then Sirius burst into laughter.

"Oh my god. Oh my god!" It was like the shock of the joke had driven away his sinus congestion. "Remus—you told a joke. About being a werewolf. Oh my god. I have to tell James—" But when Sirius tried to sit up, he fell back into the bed. "James has to know right now—Oh my god, Remus you told a joke—"

Remus swallowed the last of his tea and set the mug back down. He grabbed his overnight bag. “You sound much better. So I’m going down to Madam Pomfrey’s on my own. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

"No, Remus—but we have to tell James—we really need a more instant form of communication—"

"I’m going to be gone before everyone gets back from the match."

Sirius sighed. “Remus,” he whined, his stuffed nose suddenly all back in place.

"You can come with."

"And have her fuss over me instead of you? No thanks. Maybe I’ll come down around sunrise if I’m feeling better."

"On a Sunday? You’ll be up that early?"

"If I spend all day in bed? Sure. I’ll be up all night."

Remus went off to the hospital wing, took another cup of tea, and when the other students were celebrating Gryffindor’s victory over Slytherin, Madam Pomfrey took Remus down to the Shrieking Shack, and when he woke up in the hospital wing just after sunrise, Sirius and James were both there grinning, invisibility cloak around their shoulders, each holding a mirror in their hand.


	5. Sirius Black, December 26, 1979

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius Black wakes up the day after Christmas at the height of the wizarding war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from author brella. She's kind of one of my favorite authors so this piece really isn't at a standard I wanted for something for her but I wanted it out before the holiday season vanished.

Sirius woke up at six am, cold, and in a pile of chocolate wrappers.

It took him a moment to remember he’d fallen asleep on the floor of his living room, and once he did, he shifted into his Animagus form, a natural reaction to being cold. He rather enjoyed having an extra layer of fur in the winter.

On padded paws, he trotted into his kitchen and nosed through some of the cupboards. He kept a handful of snacks at dog-level for mornings like this where he was too cold and tired to be bothered with being human.

After scarfing down a biscuit, he went back into the living room. Peter was sleeping on the couch, arm dangling, a bit of chocolate smeared on the corner of his mouth. Sirius nosed Peter’s hand back into the bed and pulled the couch throw down with his teeth, carefully draping it over Peter.

He cleaned his living room up a little bit. Picked up empty bottles of champagne in his mouth and set them by the door to be transfigured into water glasses later. He put the candy wrappers in a paper bag, first making sure he had carefully licked out all chocolate and sugar hidden in the corners of the wrappers.

Then he walked into his own bedroom. The sunlight was just beginning to filter in, so Sirius pulled his heavy dark curtains shut, so as not to wake the peacefully sleeping couple in his bed.

He put his head up on the mattress and watched James and Lily, carefully intertwined on his bed, breathing in unison.

Last night had been a wild ride. It was supposed to be a housewarming-Christmas party for Sirius’s new flat. Lily and James had been married a few months ago, and even though they hadn’t kicked Sirius out of the Potter estate, Sirius felt quite compelled to leave. He’d found this apartment just before Halloween, and insisted everyone come over to celebrate Christmas. He’d invited over several of their friends, all members in the Order. It had been a nice break from the stress of the war, to celebrate Christmas with loved ones. They played games, at desserts, and drank champagne.

Around midnight, everyone went home, except James, Lily, and Peter.

“I was hoping Remus could be here,” James had said, but Remus had left early, citing the trip from the North as exhausting, and he was unable to stay for the duration of the party. Sirius wasn’t sure he believed it.

“Lily and I have something we want to tell you two,” James had said.

“Promise you won’t tell the rest of the order,” Lily had pleaded.

After Sirius and Peter agreed to absolute secrecy, they announced, at the same time, “We’re pregnant.”

Sirius congratulated them and Peter opened up another bottle of champagne. And when it got too late for people to leave, Sirius had insisted they sleep in his bed, and he and Peter would take the living room.

Sirius had only been asleep for a few hours when he was awoken by the cold. So now, his bed looked really comfortable. It wouldn’t be the first time he bounded onto the bed with Lily and James, tongue drooling and tail-wagging. But this time, he was too happy for Lily and James to disturb them. It was still almost Christmas, and in the middle of this war, none of them got much sleep, so he would let them have this.

There was a quiet knock on his door. Sirius frowned. Any member of the Order would send a Patronus first, or arrive by Floo. He wasn’t sure if the milk-man even worked the day after Christmas. Were milk men even still a thing for Muggles? Sirius wasn’t totally sure. He’d been in this war the last few years and hadn’t spent as much time as he would’ve liked researching Muggles’ way of life.

He lifted the mail-flap on the door with his nose and caught Remus’s familiar scent. His stomach turned, but he nosed the lock open, and Remus opened the door.

“Good morning,” Remus said quietly and stepped inside. “It is pretty cold, isn’t it?”

Sirius only looked up at him, then padded into the kitchen, paws clicking on linoleum flooring.

“Sirius,” Remus said, following him, “did you see the Prophet this morning?”

Sirius looked back at him, then put his front paws on the kitchen sink, turned on the tap, and began drinking from the faucet.

Remus sank into a chair and pulled the rolled up newspaper out of his cloak. He laid the newspaper out on the floor, opening it to the page he wanted Sirius to see.

Remus had opened it to the obituaries section. Sirius growled a little, wondering what friend of theirs had turned up dead this time. But it wasn’t one of their friends Remus wanted him to see.

“Orion Black, aged sixty, was found dead in his home on December 24.” The article went on to list Orion’s accomplishments in the ministry, some of which Sirius knew belonged to other people, some of which belonged more to his mother’s political career than his fathers. “He is survived by his wife Walburga Black, also age sixty, and his son Regulus Arcturus Black II. Walburga Black will be organizing services for the general public to pay their respects on December 27.” There was a footnote next to Regulus’s name that said Regulus Black had not been seen in several weeks, and in the middle of a war, no one could confirm or deny whether or not he would attend his father’s funeral service.

The whole article took a moment to sink in. His father was dead. That didn’t phase Sirius as much as it probably should. His family had been dead to him for years now. It stung a little that his mother had excluded him from the obituary, but he’d been dead to her for just as long, if not longer.

The part that hurt was that Regulus was missing. That meant he was either dead or on the run from Death Eaters. Sirius hadn’t been an optimist for a long time—too many secrets spilled and friends killed—but he wanted so badly to believe Regulus was alive and trying to survive the war on his own.

But in an effort to conceal all this from Remus, he only scratched with his hind paw at an itch just behind his ear.

“I know it’s a war, but Sirius—shouldn’t you at least try to work things out with your mother? At least send condolences.”

Sirius lifted his leg and pissed right onto the paper.

“Dammit, Sirius.”

Remus got up, but ignored the mess and began to fix himself a cup of tea. Sirius didn’t like the way Remus knew where everything in his kitchen was. It made him feel exposed.

He shifted back into his human form and threw out the paper. He washed his hands while Remus tried to put the kettle on the stove. Remus fiddled with the knob for a minute, then looked at Sirius with a puzzled expression. “Does your gas work?”

“It’s electric.”

“Oh. Is it safe to put the kettle on it?”

“You have a wand.”

“Right.”

Remus heated his cup and put the tea in. They stood in the kitchen in silence.

Remus finally tried, “I saw Peter on the couch. Are James and Lily still here, too?”

“They’re in my room.”

“That’s nice of you.”

Sirius only grunted and made himself a cup of tea. It was too hot when he took a sip of it, but he ignored the burning in his mouth. He was determined not to express much of anything in front of Remus, but Remus had a habit of ferreting those things out anyway.

“I asked after Regulus the morning, when I met with Dumbledore. There’s no news on our end. No news is good news, right?”

Sirius didn’t say anything. They were spared the awkward silence by Lily walking into the kitchen. She was wearing her dress from last night, but had pulled James’s coat over it. She smiled brightly at Remus.

“You’re here! Oh, I’m so glad you came by before leaving again.”

“I can’t stay too long,” Remus said with a smile.

“Let me just wake James—”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to—”

“He’ll want to see you—”

“I really should be going—”

“But we have to tell you—”

Sirius interrupted, “Lily and James are having a baby.”

There’s a pause. “Congratulations,” Remus finally says.

“James would’ve loved to tell you himself,” Lily said sharply.

“It’s alright. I don’t want to disturb him. I am very happy for you, but I do have to get back.”

Remus set his mug down in the sink. Sirius and Lily walked him to the front door, where he picked the Daily Prophet up off of Sirius’s porch. “Hope you don’t mind if I take this,” he said with a small, hesitant smile.

He hugged Lily goodbye, and Sirius said his farewell very stiffly and locked the door behind Remus.

“That was uncalled for,” Lily hissed. “It was mine and James’s news to share, not yours.”

“He wasn’t going to wait around for James to wake up, and I didn’t want to wake James up.”

“You’re impossible, Black. When are you going to grow up?” Lily stomped loudly back to the bedroom.

Peter sat up on the couch and rubbed his forehead. “What was all that about?”

“Lily’s mad I told Remus about the baby.” Sirius sighed and sat down next to Peter.

“But I thought they wanted Remus to know.”

“Yeah but they wanted to tell him. Like it makes a difference.”

Peter is quiet for a moment, then looks at Sirius with an unusually empathetic expression. “Hey—are you and Remus in a fight?”

“What? Why?”

“You don’t laugh around him like you used to.”

“It’s a war.”

“I know.” Peter chews on his lower lip. “But you and him don’t talk anymore. I just wondered if everything was okay.”

Sirius let out a heavy breath. “No. I don’t trust Remus. I know someone in the Order’s a traitor and—I think maybe Greyback got in his head or something. He’s gone so much, I just don’t know….”

“Did you tell James?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“He said I’m being paranoid.”

Peter shrugged his shoulders. “Well, there you go. James knows best.”

Sirius laughed. The one running joke between him and Peter—James knows best. Which was literally only true when it came to Quidditch.

“What time is it?” Peter yawned.

“Half-past-seven.”

He froze mid-stretch. “I’ve gotta go. Gotta be somewhere at eight.” Peter rushed for the door and shoved his feet into his boots.

“Eight? Where? Who with?”

“Uh—what’shisname—you know—um, Dedalus—we’ve got a thing. Patrol. Watch. Thing.”

Sirius shook his head. Peter was always forgetting what he had to do with who. Sometimes he thought maybe they shouldn’t have dragged him into the Order. He wasn’t the brightest in their group. But then again, Peter would’ve followed James to the moon and back, so there wouldn’t have been any stopping him in the first place.

“Bye Sirius. Happy Christmas,” he said, one arm in his coat and half out the door.

“Same, mate,” and Sirius half-waved back.

The Peter poked his head back in. “Oh—you know, maybe you could ask Dumbledore to put a little extra watch on Remus. Just to make sure.”

Sirius nodded. “Good idea. Thanks.”

Peter smiled, and was gone.

Sirius trudged back into his empty kitchen and finished his tea alone, wondering when it would be appropriate to go jump into James and Lily’s bed. Lily could tell him to grow up all she wanted, but he was going to hold onto what pieces of fun he could. He knew that if he didn’t, he would lose himself to this war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts and headcanons always welcome


	6. July 31, 1982

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter's first birthday at the Dursley's. (His second birthday.) Prompt from Sorcerer_of_the_Flame

Petunia Dursley woke up slowly. The bed sheets were thrown haphazardly on the floor. The sun was already coming in through her bedroom window hot and bright. With a weary groan she got out of bed and began folding up the laundry. She felt like she was doing a load of wash a day, but in this heat there was so much sweat. She couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping in the same bedding twice.

She took the laundry downstairs, treading lightly on the steps. She had no desire to wake either of the sleeping toddlers. Toddlers were a nightmare and they were the number one reason she did not want another child.

By the time she’d started the wash and put on the kettle, the boy in the upstairs room was screaming. She rushed upstairs to see what was the matter.

Her son had woken up and begun playing with his toy soldiers set. It was the last of the birthday presents that had survived these five weeks since the big birthday party. And now he’d broken the cannon on that too and started screaming.

Petunia scooped him up into her arms and tried shushing him quietly. “Don’t worry. I’ll go make you breakfast. And when Daddy gets home from golfing he can buy you a new one. Shh. We’ll get even get you two and go to the candy store.”

And she carried her son back downstairs to the kitchen--he was already getting quite heavy--and put him in a chair with a booster seat.

Just as she was pulling the bacon out of the fridge, the second toddler came tottering into the kitchen.

“Oh, goodness, you’re awake too, now,” she sighed, and pulled out an extra piece of bacon.

Petunia Dursley thought one child was enough. She thought that being pregnant and having a baby and feeding it was a nightmare, but everyone did it, so she did it too. And then her sister’s child showed up on her doorstep one night, and now she had two toddlers to feed, two wet beds to change, and two sets of toys to buy. 

Vernon had suggested they send Harry off to an orphanage. (This was after a tirade about dependents on the state stealing his taxes.) But Petunia disagreed and convinced him to keep Harry. She had only read Vernon half of the letter that accompanied the baby.

She read him the bit that said her sister and brother-in-law were dead. Vernon didn’t think much of that. She read him the bit that said they ought to take in Harry.

She did not, however, read him the part that said there would be magical spells placed around the home. She did not tell him that Albus Dumbledore (who had a long name and a longer list of titles that followed it) told her how necessary it was that Harry stay with Petunia. That Lily’s sacrifice protected Harry. That her love lived on in Petunia and if Harry was to survive to adulthood, he needed to be loved and cared for by family.

“Put the toast in, Harry,” she said as she turned the bacon over in the pan.

Harry was tall for his age where Dudley was wide. He could reach onto the counter easily and if he stretched on his tiptoes, put the toast in the toaster.

“I don’t want toast,” Dudley whined from his seat at the table. “I want bacon.”

“You’re having bacon,” Petunia said with a smile.

She had been raising these two boys for nine months. And she knew exactly how breakfast would go.

Dudley got the bacon, and Harry got the toast. She gave Harry one piece of bacon with his toast, which Dudley whined about it until she gave him another piece of bacon. And then he cried that Harry got toast and he didn’t, and she said, “But you said you didn’t want toast,” and he screamed and took Harry’s toast and threw it on the floor. So she made more toast for both boys.

It was barely ten am and Petunia Dursley was out of patience.

She sat Dudley down in front of the telly and had Harry clean up the floor and table while she did the dishes.

Petunia left the dishes to dry in the rack and dried her hands on the towel. She reached over into the kitchen window and tore away the date on the small calendar that said, “July 30” in large bold letters, and at the bottom said in small italics, “Nothing is more than this day.” The sheet underneath said, “July 31,” and, “Be faithful in small things because it is in them your strength lies.”

Petunia sighed, and went to water her garden. Little Harry toddled after her, while Dudley stayed on the couch.

She let Harry play in the garden while she poured water into the soil. She really ought to weed, but it was so hot she didn’t feel like doing much of anything. It was stress enough just to be out in this heat.

She looked over at Harry, who didn’t seem to mind the heat at all. He leaned down next to the garden hedge and picked up a small, broken branch.

“PUT THAT DOWN!” Petunia shrieked at him. He didn’t have time to listen. She ran over to him and wrenched it out of his hand too quickly.

Harry started to cry.

“We don’t pick up sticks,” she said sternly, kneeling next to him. “We don’t play with them or throw them or point them.”

Harry was still crying as she quickly led him inside. Once Dudley saw Harry crying, Dudley started crying. She shushed them both, but Dudley was beginning to scream.

She thrust a candy bar into Dudley’s hands and ushered Harry into the kitchen while she began to prepare lunch. Separating them was often the quickest way to quiet them.

Petunia began putting the sandwiches together while Harry sniffled quietly. “Harry, why don’t you set the table?” she said, and he pulled the paper plates and napkins out of the drawer in the kitchen.

She brought Dudley back into the kitchen and they ate their sandwiches in silence. Petunia took Dudley upstairs for a nap.

“I don’t want to take a nap,” he cried. “I want to watch the telly.”

“You’re cranky because you’re tired.”

“I WANT TO WATCH THE TELLY,” Dudley shrieked, and Petunia carried him back downstairs with a blanket and put him on the couch.

Once she had Dudley settled, she found Harry walking on tiptoe in the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” she asked with her hands on her hips.

“The cracks are lava. Don’t step on them, Auntie.”

“The cracks are not lava.”

“That’s why it’s so hot.”

“It’s hot because it’s summer time. Summer is always hot.”

“It’s a dragon’s cave.”

“There are no such things dragons!” she shrilled.

“Yes there are,” Harry started crying, and she heard Dudley start crying in the other room.

“There are not! Go to your room! Right now! It’s naptime not pretend-time.”

Harry climbed into the cupboard under the stairs, crying while Petunia went to calm Dudley down.

Eventually both boys were asleep, and Petunia sat down in the chair in the livingroom for her own afternoon break. She fanned herself with a magazine and closed her eyes.

She only had peace for about thirty minutes when Vernon came bursting through the door, grumbling about his golf score.

“Sh,” she hissed. “I’ve just gotten both boys to sleep.”

Vernon hummed disapprovingly before bustling into the kitchen, leaving his irons at the door. Petunia followed him and fixed them each up glasses of cool lemonade.

When Vernon finished complaining about how his coworkers cheated at golf, and how hot it was, and how the heat was to blame for his own terrible score, Petunia said, “Dudley broke his cannon today.”

“Hm. Guess we can get him a new one before dinner.”

“And today is Harry’s birthday.”

Vernon grunted. “Well, give him Dudley’s old toy soldier set, then. It’ll fit in his room, won’t it?”

“Yes.”

When the boys woke up from their nap, the Dursleys and Harry piled into the car and went to the store. Dudley picked out a new toy soldier set, and a racing car track he insisted on having. Harry said he wanted something too, so Vernon grabbed him a pair of socks.

When they got home, Petunia made dinner and presented Harry with Dudley’s old, broken toy.

“Soldiers and cannons are real,” she said to him.

“Dragons too,” he said.

Before Petunia could correct him, Vernon was already shouting, “Dragons are not real! You idiot boy! Go to your room right now! No supper.”

Harry took his toys and disappeared into the cupboard under the stairs. Petunia finished serving dinner. Afterwards they had dessert around the television. Petunia washed Dudley and put him to bed.

She put fresh sheets on hers and Vernon’s bed and thought she had no idea how anyone ever had more than one child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment with a date and character and I'll write a short drabble.


	7. Sirius Black, June 7, 1976

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius Black's last night at Grimmauld Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt for Sorcerer_of_the_flame_
> 
> I always dislike writing Sirius Black because I find him so amazingly complex, far too complex for me to really grasp on paper. And yet, I always end up making his chapters the lengthiest and spending the most time in them.
> 
> Directly precedes/lines up with the events at the beginning of [Dateable](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1966401).
> 
> WARNINGS FOR CHILD ABUSE; FURTHER NOTES AT END OF CHAPTER

June 7, 1976

Sirius Black tried to spend as much of his summer as he could in his room. He hadn’t really unpacked his trunk from school yet, except to take out a couple pairs of clothes. Most of his good stuff had gone home with James. He’d kept his broom, though, on the off-chance that he and Regulus could get out of the house for a Quidditch scrimmage.

Right now he was flipping through his and James’s notes on human Transfiguration. Saturday would be Remus’s first full moon of the summer, and for the first time in nine months, Sirius wouldn’t be there with him. It made Sirius angry and frustrated.

He’d written home for permission to “visit the Potters,” for the weekend, but his parents had said no. He was still hoping for an opportunity to sneak away on Sunday and make sure Remus was okay.

He turned to the section on healing spells. It was sort of like Transfiguration, but the theories involved a lot of Charms spellwork and it made his head hurt. He’d taken it upon himself to learn it all, so they wouldn’t need to go to Madam Pomfrey if there were any serious accidents during their moonlit escapades.

 _Merlin’s sack_ , he wished he could just Apparate to James’s or Remus’s or Peter’s right away, but he wouldn’t be seventeen until fall. After that, he dared his mother to try to make him come home for Christmas, or ever again.

With a heavy groan, Sirius shoved his notes back into his trunk. He was avoiding unpacking as long as he could. Unpacking was like admitting he was really stuck at home.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t hide in his room all day. Cissy and her new husband were coming over for dinner, and it was to be a formal event. At least Bella wouldn’t be there, Sirius thought gratefully. Narcissa he could at least tolerate, and she was better when Bella wasn’t around. Lucius Malfoy, however, was going to be a nightmare as long as his hair. Sirius hadn’t liked Malfoy much when they were in school together, and he didn’t like him any more as his cousin-in-law.

But it was family dinner or being locked in his room for the entire summer, and he was really counting on at least one day out in the country with Regulus, and at least two days with James if he couldn’t manage a full week.

He put on dress robes around four, and slipped downstairs as quietly as he could. Being late for afternoon tea would get him in trouble for the entire evening, and he was so determined to be good today. He had to earn just a little bit of freedom or he’d go mad in this house.

He took a seat in the corner of the parlor, picking at the fraying edge of the chair until his mother saw him, and repaired the fabric with a stern glare and a wordless spell. Sometimes Sirius thought his mother didn’t need a wand. Her face alone was enough to make the world bend to her will.

Just after the clock in the entrance hall shrieked 5pm, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy arrived.

Sirius stiffened out of his natural slouch as he heard the Malfoys voices echo down the hall, and when Regulus escorted Narcissa and Lucius into the drawing room, he left the parlor to greet them. 

He shook Lucius’s hand, but Lucius didn’t smile at him, so he didn’t smile back.

Narcissa, on the other hand, was so excited to see her family. Sirius could almost hear his Aunt Druella scolding Cissy for poor decorum as she kissed Sirius’s cheek and fondled Regulus’s hair.

They all took seats in the drawing room, and Kreacher served afternoon tea. Sirius distanced himself from the conversation and managed to maintain a relatively pleasant expression by remembering the first time he’d ever missed an afternoon tea. It was the first time he’d stayed at James’s, and James’s mother had said dinner would be ready at one. He’d been confused and asked James what time his parents went to bed. James had given him a puzzled stare and said, “Between nine and midnight. What time do your parents go to bed?”

Sirius had quickly learned that “dinner” meant “lunch” and that “tea” really meant dinner, and “afternoon tea” was something James’s family called “high tea” and rather laughed at.

“But I thought Potters were purebloods,” he’d whispered to James that first night, after an embarrassed explanation of his confusion.

James had laughed. “Yeah, but we’re not your ‘Sacred Twenty-Eight.’ Everyone says we’re blood traitors. I mean, my mother’s a Fawley, but did you see the portrait of my grandparents?”

Sirius had seen the portrait of James’s grandparents, in which his grandmother, who wore a head-covering he was only vaguely familiar with as foreign, and his grandfather, had skin that was dark like the walnut stain on the table in Sirius’s family’s formal dining room. He knew there were no Rosiers or Crouches or Lestranges that looked like James’s grandparents.

“They’re purebloods,” James had said, “Just not English purebloods. My grandfather came from America, and my grandmother from Africa. They married in Paris, and then she came to England during the war.”

The next day, James and Sirius had spent the morning digging through James’s attic, which didn’t have as much as Sirius had expected. It wasn’t like the attic of Grimmauld Place, which was full of stuff from generations and generations. This attic was young, and not especially cluttered yet.

But what James’s attic lacked in quantity, it made up for in variety. Sirius attic contained lots of furniture, dishware, and discarded wands, from different periods that really all looked the same except for the level of dust or decay. James’s attic was made of only a few trunks, but with so many different things inside. They found small clay animals from an African empire Sirius had never heard of, but James insisted it had been as advanced as Ancient Egypt. Sirius had asked where their pyramids were, and James had answered, “Buried underneath your Sacred Twenty-Eight.”

They found ceramic figures of humans with white powdered wigs and tight corsets on women's dresses, with heavy bustles. This had looked more familiar to Sirius, except, “They look like Muggles.”

“They probably are,” James had answered with a shrug.

They found a doll with a yellow star painted on her chest, which Sirius vaguely understood, but it had puzzled James. He only said, “I don’t remember anyone in my family being Jewish.”

They found, finally, the thing James had been looking for--the record of his family lineage--and one thing they hadn’t been looking for--a large, silvery cloak that Sirius had tried on and both boys nearly forgot everything else they’d found.

The hall clock shrieked six, and Sirius jumped at the sound. He was, for once, grateful his family had gotten into the habit of ignoring him. It made it so much easier to ignore them.

They moved from the drawing room into the dining room. He caught tail ends of all the conversations he’d missed.

Cissy said to her Aunt Walburga, “Goodness, no, I could never move to Paris.”

And Regulus said to Malfoy, “We really aren’t learning anything like that at Hogwarts. History of Magic is rather--dull.” And Sirius saw the flush in his cheeks, like he was embarrassed to be seen as a child disinterested in school.

Malfoy said, “I recall that subject to be lacking in my day, too.” Sirius had to hold back a rude laugh. Malfoy had only graduated--what, two, three years ago? “But you know,” Malfoy continued, “I have this book that really inspired me. Put things into perspective.”

Sirius lost the rest of that conversation as he fell to the back of the group beside his father. There was nothing to be said between the two of them, and Sirius took his usual seat in the formal dining hall, at his father’s left hand, across from his mother. Regulus sat by his mother, and Narcissa sat across from him. Lucius sat at the end.

Narcissa was, despite her earlier protest about being unable to move to France, still gushing to his mother about the honeymoon, and how nice it had been for Bella to join them for a week of it. It effectively cut him off from the conversation with Regulus and Malfoy--not that Sirius had any interest in that--and he certainly had no interest in conversation with his father.

His mind drifted back to that day at James’s, when they spread their spoils on the floor of the living room. Sirius hadn’t known what a “living room” was when he’d first visited James, either. He explained to James what a drawing room was, compared to a sitting room, compared to a parlor, compared to a salon, and James had laughed and told him that sounded unnecessarily complicated.

James’s father had come home from his job at the Ministry. It was something important, Sirius knew, because he’d heard the name, “Potter,” said over the dinner table several times in his childhood. And that notoriety, whatever it was, was the only thing that allowed Sirius permission to visit James’s home.

Mr. Potter had congratulated their findings, and a wide smile spread on his face when James asked him about the doll.

Sirius had learned a lot about James’s grandparents that day. He learned about James’s grandfather smuggling Muggles across borders, and helping half-bloods escape Grindewald’s supporters, and all sorts of stories of secrecies and espionage. And they learned that they had found not just any old invisibility cloak, but _the_ Invisibility Cloak. Mr. Potter laughed when he told them the story Sirius had heard a hundred times--The Deathly Hallows--and how Grindewald had been hunting for the artifacts, and James’s grandfather had been using the cloak to subvert him the entire time.

The Potter lineage went all the way back to a Peverell, who had arrived from England in America. There were lots of Peverells in the book, and Mr. Potter had said still lived in America. But their names stopped abruptly just before 1930. Mr. Potter had explained they’d lost touch with the Peverell side of family, and his grandfather had left America around that time.

Sirius learned a lot that day, and understood why he’d often heard, “Potter,” said at the dinner table with a, “blood-traitor” hissed shortly afterwards.

“The Prewetts are practically blood-traitors,” Malfoy said, and this stirred Orion Black from his stony silence.

“The Prewetts have always been a noble family,” he said, in a deep firm voice, that made the conversation Malfoy had been carrying on sound like idle prattle in a first-year dormitory.

“I agree with you that they have been, Sir,” Malfoy said. He looked like he had been scolded and Sirius loved it. His mouth quirked into a tiny smile. “But you must have heard one of their girls married a Weasley.”

“The Weasleys are pureblood,” Sirius’s father said.

“Aunt Lucretia was telling us,” Narcissa cut in, and all heads turned to her, “that her niece married a Weasley who worked in a department of the Ministry devoted to Muggles.”

This darkened Orion’s face, but he said, “Her nephews will surely make better decisions.”

“Her nephews are Aurors,” Malfoy said, “and very loyal, I’ve heard, to Dumbledore.”

Now Orion went on a tirade about politics and education, and said the Hogwarts Board of Directors needed more suitable pureblooded staff on it, and Malfoy agreed, by saying how much he valued education, and wanted to create changes at Hogwarts so it would be fit for when he and Narcissa eventually had children.

Sirius tuned them out again. It was the only way he could survive the evening. They were moving on from types of education, to who should be educated, and Sirius had to keep his hands clenched under the table just to keep from lashing out. He bit down on his tongue and stared at his goblet. He recited Transfiguration equations in his head and tried puzzling out one of the more complicated healing spells about bone repair he’d been working on earlier today.

“Sirius, you haven’t touched your dessert,” Narcissa said sweetly.

It completely derailed his concentration. ”What? Oh--I’m quite full from dinner.”

“Perhaps we should retire to the parlor,” his mother suggested, and they all stood.

Sirius, again, caught the edges of conversation as they moved.

“It would certainly improve a class,” Regulus said to Malfoy.

Sirius’s father said, “It would better prepare you for work in the Ministry. There’s no need for that rubbish Muggles Studies course.”

He said this intentionally loud enough for Sirius to hear, and Sirius bit down on his tongue so hard he tasted blood. Muggle Studies, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration were the only courses Sirius had brought home an O in, this summer.

Sirius took his usual seat in the corner of the parlor. He slouched naturally, until his mother cleared her throat very loudly. He straightened up in his chair and tried to lose his train of thought in the embroidery on the curtains. He wanted to behave so badly, but his family was making it so difficult.

He heard, against his will, Lucius mention the political events they had attended in Paris, and the changes they could bring to the Ministry of Magic.

Sirius tightened his hand around the arm of the chair he was seated in. He’d heard about the changes coming, about the disappearances of Muggles. About registration laws. It all sounded so much like what Mr. Potter had said about Grindewald’s rise to power. And talking about it, here, in the parlor, made what had been a distant adventure story sound so terrifyingly real, Sirius wasn’t sure what to do about it. All he knew was that he wanted it to stop, but he had no idea how to change the conversation, or what to change it to. But if he couldn’t change the subject he wasn’t sure he would survive the evening.

Lucius said, “Regulus, you really ought to come with your cousins and I. You’re nearly old enough to participate--”

“He’s not even fifteen,” Sirius said suddenly. “You can’t ask him to make decisions like that.”

“You’re only sixteen,” Regulus interrupted. “I can make decisions for myself.”

“I’m nearly an adult. You--you’re still--you haven’t even taken your O.W.L.S--”

“I’m only a year younger than you!”

“A year and nine months,” Sirius said. He knew a fight with his brother was not a way to win his mother’s favor, but he couldn’t help it. He knew Regulus was getting into the wrong sorts of crowds at school, that people like Lucius Malfoy were filling his head with pureblood propaganda, and he wanted to protect Regulus from it as much as he could. “You can’t believe everything these people say. There’s so much more--”

“Sirius,” his mother said, cold and sharp, and he shrank back into his seat, muscles still taut, like a rubber band poised to snap.

“This is your legacy too, Sirius,” Malfoy tried, and waved off the warning hand Narcissa placed on his wrist. “You have to protect what’s yours.”

“That doesn’t mean I take from others because their family tree isn’t woven into a blood-soaked tapestry,” he said, and tried so hard to keep a snarl out of his voice.

Lucius looked helplessly to Sirius’s mother. “Are you sure he’s pureblood?” Sirius knew Malfoy was intentionally trying to irritate him by talking about him in front of him, instead of to him, and it worked. Sirius was getting angry. Usually he could let it out on Slytherins at school, or on a broom with James. But here, trapped in his parents parlor, there wasn’t anything he could do.

And then Lucius said, “He almost behaves like he’s a half-breed.”

Everything in Sirius snapped. He stood, and with a voice he could only have learned from his mother he said, “I’d rather be a half-breed than related to your lot,” and he punched Lucius in the face.

Lucius, surprisingly, punched back. Sirius felt his lip split from the force of it. Narcissa was screaming for them to stop, but Lucius got out his wand and Sirius was too furious to hear the spell. But all his fury faded with a pain that coursed through every nerve of his body. When he hit the floor, he wasn’t sure if he was screaming, or Narcissa was screaming, or it was both of them.

It wasn’t the first time Sirius had the Cruciatus Curse used on him. He’d gotten into his fair share of trouble at home. Of course, it was only the worst of the worst that earned him this punishment. Insulting respectable dinner guests was his most common offense. The fifth time he’d snuck out of the house was another. It got to the point where he could tell the difference between when his mother used it and when his father had used it.

This time, it felt like his father.

The pain vanished, and he was left with a dull throb in his joints. When he opened his eyes, he saw Regulus standing between him and his father, and Narcissa standing between him and Lucius.

“I think it’s time we left,” Narcissa said quietly.

Sirius slowly stood, and desperately wished his legs would stop shaking.

Regulus escorted Narcissa and Malfoy to the door, leaving Sirius alone with his parents.

“How dare you,” his mother hissed. “Brawling, like some sort of common--”

“Lucius is practically family now,” Sirius tried, with a half-grin. But it didn’t appease his mother in the slightest.

She cast her curse, and Sirius fell to his knees. He’d been prepared this time, and tightened his jaw against the pain. His father’s Cruciatus Curse was general pain in his whole body, that might split his head open with the force of it. His mother’s was like needles piercing every pore of his skin, from the inside out. Overall, it hurt worse but he preferred it, because unlike his father's, it gave him something to focus on.

It only stopped when Regulus intervened again.

“As if your response was any less embarrassing,” he was saying when the high-pitched ringing in Sirius’s head faded.

Sirius repeated to himself he would be seventeen in four months. In four months he would be completely free of this place. Free of his parents.

“Lucius Malfoy understood the necessity,” his father said.

“Cissy thought it was uncalled for,” Regulus said back.

“You can’t defend what he said,” his mother said, with a voice so calm and collected it terrified Sirius. She was worse when she was calculated.

“Let Sirius and I go away for a weekend with Uncle Alphard,” Regulus begged. “It’ll be better if--”

“We aren’t rewarding him for bad behavior,” his father said.

Sirius hands tightened in the rug. No. He couldn’t stay in this house for three months straight. He’d go insane. He’d rather they shut him up in Azkaban or something--somewhere he wouldn’t have to hear his mother screaming at him.

“Sirius,” his mother said, “go upstairs.”

“Mother--” Regulus tried again, but Sirius stood up, determination set in his eyes. He wasn’t staying in this house another minute.

As soon as he was in his bedroom, he started throwing everything he could into his trunk. His Gryffindor banners and magazine cutouts were permanently stuck to the wall, so they’d have to stay behind, but he grabbed anything that would fit and stuffed it into his trunk as quickly as he could.

Just when he was about to put on more comfortable runaway clothes, his mother came into his room without knocking. His escape was going to have to wait.

It wasn’t like his mother had always tortured him. It was the sort of thing that had happened so oddly naturally Sirius wasn’t sure when the transition occurred. There was no moment in his memory that tipped it over the edge. It was only getting into trouble, and getting into worse trouble, and getting into even worse trouble

When Sirius was a toddler, a slap on the wrist had been sufficient to get him back in line. But Sirius had inherited stubbornness, and simple punishments turned into more of a game than a threat. By the time he was eight, scoldings, time-outs, and light slaps were laughable. So the punishments evolved.

Lashes were the most effective and easiest to clean up. All it took was a wand and a bottle of dittany. The problem, Sirius and his mother had discovered, was that they didn’t linger. There was no reminder of the wrong he had done, and nothing to prevent him from doing it again. And if she left the lashes to heal naturally, they might tear and stain his robes or be visible at school or to visitors.

By the time Sirius was thirteen, she’d perfected her technique. Lashes that did more damage under the skin, leaving only welts and occasional swelling on his back. They hurt when she inflicted them, and they hurt for weeks after she was done. And they were curses, so there was no potion or spell he could find to fix it.

He removed his dress robes, because it would be worse if she had to do it, and tightened his hands around the top frame of his canopy bed. It hurt less if he laid down, but he had no interest in giving his mother the satisfaction that he’d completely given in to her.

The first lashes were always the easiest. His nerves were still sensitive from the succession of Cruciatus Curses, but the first few were easy to ignore. It was on the fifteenth and sixteenth lashes when he started to lose the firm control he had tried so hard to hold onto. On twenty-one, his body jerked so hard he felt something tear in his shoulder, and his wrist twisted farther than it was designed to. On twenty-six he banged his shin into the side of his bed so hard he heard the bone crack. On thirty-two, his back felt like it was on fire and he wanted so badly to lay down and take the rest of it on his soft mattress, crying into his pillow. But he’d committed to this and he couldn’t give in now.

She stopped at forty, when his arms were trembling from the strain, and in the brief moment of relief he fell onto his bed.

As soon as his body had relaxed, she cast a Cruciatus Curse and Sirius knew this time he was screaming. He tightened his teeth around the edge of his mattress to muffle the sound. He didn’t want Regulus to hear him.

When she was done, he heard her try to cast an incendiary spell at his wall, but Sirius had prepared for that, and his posters of Muggle girls on motorcycles remained undamaged.

She left in a huff and he heard the lock on his door click. He almost laughed. That lock hadn’t kept him in his room for the last five years.

He stayed still, until he was sure his parents were in bed and he was sure he’d be able to move without shaking. Now it was just a matter of getting past Kreacher. If only he could Apparate, this wouldn’t be a problem.

He left his dress robes in the corner of the room. He’d burn them if he had the time, but his priority right now was to get out. He threw on a button-up shirt and jeans he’d borrowed from James at the end of last year and put robes on top of them--just in case he got caught.

Then, he Vanished his trunk to the kitchen and limped down the stairs as quickly as he could.

He heard Kreacher’s snarl when he reached the kitchen, and Sirius didn’t wait to see if it was in his sleep or if he’d been awakened by the trunk. He grabbed the Floo powder, said the Potter’s residence as clearly and quietly as he could, and dove into the fireplace with his trunk in hand.

He tumbled out in James’s living room, and heard Mrs. Potter shriek, “My goodness! What happened to you?”

Mrs. Potter quickly helped him straighten, and he saw James come in, adjusting his glasses. He tried to grin, but he was worried he looked as bad as he felt. James, at least, looked as concerned as he did when Remus had a particularly rough full moon.

“James, get your father,” Mrs. Potter said quickly as she examined the cut and bruise on Sirius’s face.

But James just kept staring at Sirius, like something wasn’t processing in his brain.

“James!” his mother said sharply. “What are you standing around for?”

James was suddenly shocked back into reality again, and adjusted his glasses. “What?”

“I said go wake your father and get him down here. Now.”

“Right.”

James disappeared up the stairs, and Mrs. Potter led Sirius down into the kitchen. She helped him sit up on the counter while the Potters’ two house elves scurried around, grabbing all the medicine they had.

James and Mr. Potter joined them quickly, and Sirius tried to protest, but Mr. Potter insisted. So Sirius let Mr. Potter heal the obvious injuries as quickly as he could--his face, his wrist, his shoulder, his shin, some bruising on his ribs he hadn’t even noticed--and closed his robes up as quickly as he could. There was no sense in letting them look at the wounds on his back. They were impossible to heal, and it would only upset them.

“What else is hurt, Son?” Mr. Potter asked and Sirius swallowed a lump in his throat

“I’d just like to get some sleep, if that’s okay.”

Mrs. Potter took the house elves and went to prepare him a bedroom. Sirius couldn’t imagine his mother working with a house elf to accomplish anything, but James’s family had always been strange to him.

Mr. Potter fixed them both cups of hot chocolate and pulled leftover lemon pie out of a cupboard. James carried the hot chocolate and Sirius carried the pie up to James’s room.

In the last three years, Sirius had only found one thing that dulled the sting of his mother’s lashes, and he knew exactly where James hid it. He pulled the bottle of firewhiskey from behind James’s bookshelf and added it to his hot cocoa. James did the same.

The sat next to each other on the bed. Sirius sat up straight, putting as little weight on the pillows as he could. He avoided saying anything about what happened, and instead asked about James’s O.W.L. results.

“O in Transfiguration, of course,” he laughed, “And Defence. I think Divination was the only thing I didn’t O.W.L. in. What about you?”

“Yeah. E in Charms.”

“I thought for sure you’d get an O,” James frowned.

Sirius laughed--good, the firewhiskey was working--and proceeded to repeat their last Charms lesson in Flitwick’s high, squeaky voice, complete with the scolding he’d given Sirius for scorching his name into the corner of his desk.

They laughed about their classes and exams together. Sirius was grateful James understood his need for distraction. Remus would have quietly pried a confession out of him and that was the last thing he wanted right now.

About four in the morning, when their conversation had died out, they were out of cocoa and firewhiskey. Sirius felt the dullness of the alcohol giving way to the sharp pain in his back. He sat up straighter. The question was on James face and Sirius had been ignoring it all night. Finally, he said quietly, “I punched Lucius Malfoy in the face.”

He told James a brief summary of the evening. Dinner with Malfoy, and the conversations about pureblood power. When Sirius told him about Malfoy’s half-breed comment, James immediately understood. They were both so protective of Remus that anything against Magical Part-Humans, or Beings, or Beasts-that-should-be-Beings was considered a personal attack to them.

He left out the Cruciatus Curses. And he left out what his mother did and said. That didn’t leave much else to tell. So he only said, “I’m not going back. I’m never going back to that house as long as--no, I’m never going back. For anything.”

“You really don’t have to,” James said. “You can stay here. I know my parents won’t care.”

Oh, but James’s parents cared so much. Sirius thought he might break under the weight of it all, but it was a good weight. A weight he’d been terrified of at first, but the more he got to know Mr. and Mrs. Potter, the more he realized it was not a weight he ought to fight. “Your parents care a lot,” he mumbled, and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always flip flop on whether Sirius's parents were actually abusive or not. I see it happening relatively naturally--I think Sirius is like a rubber ball trapped in a box. His parents are the stiff, unrelenting walls. I can easily see how an increase in punishments, in an effort to get through to Sirius, could cross the lines between discipline and abuse. And the way Sirius talks about his family--without any personal connections/direct names--is characteristic of someone who suffered abuse.
> 
> However, I also think that Sirius was a huge drama queen, and maybe someone who was just ultra-sensitive. So having a mother who was not particularly affectionate may have just been emotionally devastating, through no fault other than being different people. And his parents were only supporters of Voldemort until, like Regulus, they saw how far Voldemort was willing to go to achieve his ends. Then they backed out.
> 
> All that to say, I totally understand if you don't think Sirius's mother was this violent. I think both ways are valid interpretations of Walburga's character and Sirius's home life. I chose to write it the way I did for a couple reasons--a) it went along with my original version of Sirius leaving Grimmauld Place in [Dateable](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1966401) and b) I had to deal with a best friend in an abusive situation when I was James's age, so it resonates a lot with me when I write his relationship with Sirius.
> 
> Either way, I hope you liked it, and if you have ever want me to write Sirius's home life without abuse, please say so. I have no objections to it.
> 
> And also, James's family lineage is based off of my own personal headcanons. I fell in love with the half-black Harry headcanon, which meant I wrote and researched an entire family history for the Potters. It's very long and detailed, so I won't record it all here, but I did have a lot of fun with it.


	8. James Potter, December 31, 1979

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's New Year's Eve at the Potters' home, and in the middle of a war, a small get together of friends is all James wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a prompt from talkingbookworm on tumblr. She's one of my best IRL friends so I put WAYY too much work into this piece and it came out so much longer than I expected. And even still, I wish I had made more room for Peter, but I spent all my time on James and Lily, since it's my first fic really with the two of them as the center piece.

_December 31, 1979_

James woke late Monday morning when the kettle downstairs whistled. He rolled over to Lily’s side of the bed. It was cold. He wondered when she came home, and if she’d slept at all.

Married and in the Order was nothing like James expected. Lily had told him it would be difficult, but he hadn’t prepared for this. There were far too many nights they had to spend alone because of duties to the Order. There were too many emergency calls that roused one or both of them out of bed at any hour of the night.

Last night, Lily had been out with Emmeline Vance, and James had stayed up late, worrying about her, until he was all worried out and there was nothing to do but fall asleep.

He went downstairs and took the blanket from the bed with him. When he walked into the kitchen he could smell her tea.

“Does it have to be that strong?” he asked.

She gave him a weary smile and pulled out her wand.

“No, I got it,” he said. He groped his pajama pockets for his wand but realized he’d left it upstairs next to the bed.

Lily shook her head and tapped her mug with her wand. It duplicated and James took the new one. He added a lot of milk.

“How’s Emmeline?”

“Fine.” Her voice was thin, exhausted. She sipped at her tea slowly.

“You should take a nap.”

“I have to finish cleaning the kitchen, then we need to get started on the attic.”

“I’ll clean the kitchen.”

“How many cleaning spells do you know?”

“I’ll invent some.”

Lily choked on her tea. And then she realized he was serious and laughed. She was still laughing at him when she got up and grabbed a loaf of bread. She cut off and toasted a piece with her wand.

“You can’t wear yourself out like this,” James tried again. He was afraid to say, “because of the baby.” Lily had already yelled at him more than once about how being pregnant didn’t make her incapable. So instead he said, “I was hoping we could have Remus and Sirius and Peter over tonight. Maybe even Emmeline and the McKinnons. Just something small.”

Lily tilted her head slightly. “Oh. It’s New Year’s Eve, isn’t it?”

“And I thought Remus could stay with us a few days. If Dumbledore says it’s alright.” James wanted so desperately to spend time with Remus. Remus was gone for the Order a lot, and James missed spending time with his friends. Sirius’s suspicions about Remus reminded him that he did not get to enjoy the company of his friends as often as he used to, that they all needed to just be together once in a while, or they were in danger of losing their friendship all together.

“If Dumbledore doesn’t mind, I don’t mind,” Lily said, and handed him a piece of toast before starting on her second.

James took the toast and Lily’s wand. He tried to summon paper and ink with it, but the parchment came at him in a rush, and the ink spilled all over the bed cover.

Lily snatched her wand back and said, “Evanesco,” and the ink was gone. “Go upstairs and get your wand,” she sighed.

“That’s so far,” he groaned.

She rolled her eyes. “Accio wand,” she tried, but nothing happened.

“Probably for the best,” James said, “otherwise Expelliarmus would be ridiculously pointless.”

He got up for fresh ink and organized the parchment while Lily took the blanket back upstairs for a nap. James composed brief invitations to Sirius and Peter, Alice and Frank, Fabian and Gideon, Emmeline, and Marlene. Then he wrote a brief letter to Dumbledore asking if Remus could leave his post to celebrate the holiday and said, “and if he could stay with Lily and I until at least the third of January, given the circumstances, we would appreciate it.”

Sirius and Peter readily accepted the New Year’s invitation. Alice and Frank said they would come, but weren’t sure if they could stay until midnight. Fabian and Gideon declined, saying they were spending the night with their sister’s family. Emmeline said she would try to be there and Marlene promised to bring her brother and a bottle of firewhiskey to share.

Just after noon, a letter arrived from Dumbledore. James eagerly tore it open. Dumbledore said that they could afford for Remus to leave his post over the holiday, and he might as well stay through the third, “given the circumstances.”

Quickly James wrote to Remus, and it wasn’t so much the invitation he’d sent to everyone else. It was more of, “You’re coming over to celebrate New Year’s, and you’re not leaving until at least the third. Dumbledore already approved it.”

James then set about making the house company-ready. He wanted Lily to be pleasantly surprised when she woke up.

He charmed a rag in the kitchen to wipe down the counter, and a mop to do the floors. In the living room he levitated their coats into the closet and vanished the cat hair off the furniture. The bathroom, however, left him a bit stumped. But he was determined to impress Lily, so he cleaned it by hand with dish soap and decided he’d just tell her he used magic.

Around dinner time, a drowsy Lily emerged to find James doing the crossword from the Daily Prophet with the cat asleep in his lap. She looked around the clean house and James’s heart thrummed with pride when she didn’t critique any of it.

“Did you make dinner, too?” she asked.

“I could. What do you want?”

Now she eyed him warily. “Did something happen?”

“No.”

She still looked at him with a tight frown.

“I told you I’d clean while you slept.”

She went into the kitchen and James followed.

“How many are coming over tonight?” she asked.

James counted quickly in his head. “Eight. Well, Remus hasn’t replied, but I’m sure he’s coming. And Alice and Frank won’t stay very late.”

“You invited the Longbottoms?”

“I thought you liked them.”

“You said small party.”

“Eight is small.”

“Three is small.” Lily stared into a cupboard of seasoning and sighed. “Fine, I’ll make us dinner while you go pick up a dessert to serve tonight.”

James grinned. He loved trips to the Muggle shops. “Why don’t we both just go out for dinner, and then pick something up while we’re out?”

Lily glanced at the clock on the wall. “We have to hurry. Most shops close early for New Years.”

It was the most pleasant evening James had in a long time. It reminded him of when he and Lily were first dating. Except he was far less nervous about losing her, at least through any silly comment or action. 

And when he put a hand on her waist as they walked, he felt a thrill that there was something else between them, something that belonged to them and them alone.

When they got home there was a large black dog sitting on their front porch.

James balanced the cake box--the last the store had--in one hand and he opened the door for Lily with the other one. The dog rushed in and James nearly stepped on a brown rat that skittered in after the dog.

“Don’t scare the cat!” he shouted at them before closing the door.

He left the cake in the kitchen, and when he made it to the living room, he found Sirius and Peter sprawled over his couch.

Lily took a seat in the armchair and James sat down in her lap, legs sprawled out over the sides of the chair. She pushed him to the floor and everyone laughed. James stayed there, leaning his head against her legs, while she absentmindedly ran her hand through his hair.

This, this was what James had missed. Sitting around, talking with his friends, just existing with the people he loved. There was no space for that in a war. He wished this whole thing was over and they could all go back to being this. Just this. The only thing missing was Remus.

There was a knock on the door and he leapt to answer it. But it wasn’t Remus.

Marlene stood on their porch with a wide smile, a bottle of firewhiskey, and her fifteen-year old brother, home from Hogwarts for the holidays.

Now it was a party.

Sirius, Marlene, and Peter got into a drinking competition. James never did figure what the game was, but it seemed like every time he looked over at them, they were laughing and taking a shot of alcohol.

Emmeline and the Longbottoms arrived next and joined the sober party, with Lily and Eli McKinnon.

It rounded on ten, and Remus still hadn’t shown. James sat in a seat between Lily and Marlene, eyes on the entrance hall.

Lily swatted his knee. “You’re bouncing.”

James folded his arms over his chest. “Remus isn’t here yet and he hasn’t owled.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” But James knew she wasn’t sure at all. Nothing was sure in this war. He got up for water, and Lily handed him her glass.

In the kitchen, he ran into Frank, who was cutting himself another slice of the cake. “It’s not for me,” he said suddenly, when he saw James. “Alice wanted more.”

“It’s fine,” James left. “Lily probably expects me to bring her seconds, too.” He groped his pockets for his wand, but they were empty. He tried to remember when he last had his wand, but he couldn’t. He pulled water from the tap instead. “Is Alice alright?” he asked over the tap water.

Frank looked up from cutting a second piece of cake. “Hm?”

“Alice.” James shut off the tap. “I expected her to start in on the firewhiskey with Marlene.”

“Oh,” Frank ducked his head down. “No, er--the Healer said she should stop drinking.”

“Is she okay? What happened?”

“Nothing, she’s fine,” Frank said hurriedly. He picked up the two plates of cake and tried to hand one to James, but James had a glass of water in each hand. “We went to a Healer who studied Muggle medicine, and is trying for an incorporated approach.”

“That’s brilliant.”

“Yes, well,” Frank glanced back at the party, “we don’t want to tell people until we’re sure--but, Alice is pregnant. We don’t want people to know just yet, until we’re sure that, um, sure that the baby will come.”

James suddenly remembered a conversation he’d overheard between Fabian Prewett and Alastor Moody about Alice getting a health review about a year earlier because of an accident. They didn’t mean a curse, they’d meant a miscarriage. Which made more sense when he thought about it. He understood they were unfortunately common between pureblooded couples. At least, his mother said as much when he’d told her he wanted to marry a Muggle-born.

But now he didn’t know what to say, other than to try empathizing. So against a prophetic vision of Lily yelling at him he said, “Us too. We’re--waiting, until we’re sure.”

Frank smiled gently at him. “Congratulations.”

“You too,” James smiled. “Uh--but we didn’t hear about alcohol.”

“New research in Muggle medicine,” Frank shrugged, “we figured it couldn’t hurt. And, we want to be careful as possible.”

“Sure, sure,” James said and carefully balanced the plate of cake Frank was trying to give him on top of one of the cups. Lily wasn’t going to be very happy when he told her they were going to have to stop drinking.

James walked back into the living room and handed the piece of cake to Lily.

“Oh! Thank you!” she smiled and also took a water glass from him. “How did you know I wanted another?”

“Lucky guess,” he grinned. He sat back down next to her and his eyes drifted to the door again. He was getting really worried about Remus. He wondered if he should write to Dumbledore. Maybe something happened. Or Sturgis might know. He was the one who worked closest to Remus.

Lily caught his eye. She looked at the clock on the wall then the door. “Okay,” she said quietly, “I think now we can worry.”

James slipped away from the party and upstairs. He raided his bedside table for his wand. He could send a patronus quicker than an owl. Situations like this were exactly what Dumbledore invented the communication method for.

But his wand wasn’t in his dresser.

He yanked back the bed covers but it wasn’t hiding in there, either.

James went back downstairs and to the coat closet. He slipped his hand in the pocket of his coat. It wasn’t there.

He checked his pockets a third time, but it wasn’t there either.

James turned and jumped when he found Alice standing right behind him.

“Everything alright?” she asked.

“Fine,” he said, and adjusted his glasses. “Can’t seem to find my wand.”

“Oh. Well, good luck. Frank and I are going. We wanted to say our goodbyes.”

James nodded. “Thanks for coming. I hear you enjoyed the cake.”

Alice grinned at him. “Sure did. Thanks for having us.” She shook his hand.

James felt like he ought to say something about the baby or about Remus or anything, but he couldn’t find the words. He only said, “Apparate safely.”

“We didn’t drink anything,” she said with a laugh. “At least I didn’t.” She turned to her husband, who was saying goodbye to Emmeline across the room. “Frank! Do you need to Side-Along?”

He shook his head at her, and she turned back to James.

“Well, there you have it. We’ll be fine. Though, I would keep an eye on Marlene. I don’t think her brother’s old enough to Apparate her home.”

“No, he’s not.” James found words failing him. He’d meant Apparating with a baby. But he managed to clear his head enough to say, “We’ll keep an eye on them, of course.”

Alice hesitated, and James wondered if Frank had told her about Lily, or maybe she could read the stress about Remus on his face. But she didn’t ask about either Lily or what he was worried about, and just said, “Thanks again. Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” James said, and walked her to the door.

She and Frank waved goodbye to everyone and Apparated right off the front porch. James paused at the open door and scanned the sky for an owl, or any word from Remus, but the night was empty except for the moon, bright and nearly full.

There was a hand on his shoulder and he saw Lily at his side. She stared up at the sky with him for a moment, then said, “It’s cold,” and closed the door. She rested her head against the back of his shoulder. “Did you send your patronus to Dumbledore?”

“Can’t find my wand,” he said with a heavy sigh.

Lily swatted the back of his head. “How. Many. Times. Have. I. Told. You--”

“I know, I know.”

Lily hit his shoulder for good measure before disappearing upstairs. James sank into the armchair Lily had vacated, and Sirius slid a shot glass across the coffee table. James handed it off to Marlene. She took a long look at it before finally setting it down. James wondered if she needed directions to the bathroom.

“Whatsa matter, Prongsy?” Sirius asked.

“Just worried about Remus.” James watched Sirius, trying to gauge his reaction. They’d already had at least one discussion about Remus, in which Sirius listed a string of suspicious behaviors, and James called him a paranoid idiot. He wondered what range of emotions an intoxicated Sirius might have about Remus tonight.

Apathetic was the start. Sirius blew a loud raspberry and reached for another shot. James felt the anxiety in his chest tighten with frustration.

Lily came back downstairs and reached around the armchair. She draped her hands over his shoulders and leaned close. “I’ve sent word to Dumbledore, and I expect if he hasn’t heard anything, he’ll send word to Sturgis.” And then she kissed his cheek, as if all she’d done was tell him she loved him, and straightened. “Nearly time to pour the New Year’s toast, isn’t it?”

Emmeline got up to help her and James wondered if now was a good time to tell Lily she shouldn’t be drinking, or if he should let her have one last glass of champagne.

He didn’t get to wonder long, because there was a gentle knock at the door. James stood so quickly his head spun, but he ignored the rush and stumbled straight for the door.

“Alright there?” Eli called after him, and got to his feet.

James pulled the door open, but the excited greeting meant for Remus died on his lips.

It was indeed Remus at his door, looking paler than usual for a waxing gibbous moon, and with a trickle of blood coming out his nose. He held his wand tightly in one hand--too tightly to do any real spell casting with--and his other hand was wrapped around his middle.

James pulled him inside and shut the door as quick as he could. Eli was suddenly there, “Is he okay?” and he helped James carry Remus to the couch. Sirius and Peter jumped out of the way.

James got a hold of Remus’s face and tried to get him to stay conscious. Sirius’s mouth was moving, and he had his wand out, but he didn’t have the focus to complete a spell.

“Is Remus here?” Lily said, sticking her head out of the kitchen, a champagne flute in each hand.

James only had to meet her eyes and everything that needed to be said was in the expression on his face. She dropped the glasses and disappeared back into the kitchen.

When she returned to the living room, she was carrying a basket of bottled potions they kept on hand. Mostly painkillers, a few things from the Healer to help with her pregnancy, and James prayed there was dittany tucked away in there.

There was a sharp gasp from Eli, as Peter and Emmeline opened up Remus’s robes.

“Did Death Eaters do that?” Eli whispered, and James didn’t have time to explain away Remus’s scars. 

Thankfully Marlene called him over to her chair and whispered, “This isn’t for you to see.”

“Remus,” James said, trying to keep his friend’s head steady. “Remus, can you hear me?”

Remus’s eyes were open but he seemed unable to focus them on James.

Lily was dropping dittany onto the gash across Remus’s stomach. Remus winced, and it steamed like it was supposed to but the bleeding didn’t slow. She tried a few more drops.

“It’s not working,” Emmeline said.

“What do you want me to do?” Lily snapped.

“Sirius,” James kept a steady hand on Remus’s face, and turned around to face Sirius, “What’s the counter-curse for Sectumsempra?”

Sirius stared at him blankly. “Vulna--Valer--”

“Dittany works on Sectumsempra.” Lily tried one more time and pressed on the wound, but there wasn’t much else to do about a cursed wound. It continued to bleed through the white cloth she had pressed against his stomach.

“Sirius! Help me,” James snapped.

Sirius blinked a few times, and his eyebrows knit together. He pressed the tip of his wand against the wound. He opened his mouth, but it wasn’t coming to him.

“If you say it wrong, you’ll make it worse,” Lily warned.

“You think I don’t know that?” he snapped back. He swore under his breath.

“Remus,” James tried again, “Remus can you hear me?”

Remus managed to lock eyes with James and he opened his mouth but no sound came out.

“Finite Incantatem,” James said breathlessly.

“That won’t do it,” Lily snapped.

But Emmeline didn’t take the time to challenge James’s judgement and cast the spell.

Immediately, Remus’s sounds of suppressed anguish filled their living room.

“Remus, I need the spell,” James said as quickly and gently as he could, given the stress of the moment.

“Vul--” Remus gritted his teeth as Lily pressed harder. “Vulnera San--” The words dissolved into another spasm of pain, and Peter held Remus’s shoulders against the couch to keep him still.

“I got it,” Sirius said.

“Are you sure?” James asked. “If you do it wrong--” 

“I know! And if I don’t do anything--” No one wanted to think about that possibility. Sirius gritted his teeth and loosened his grip on his wand. He took a deep breath, then in a song-like whisper said, “Vulnera Sanentur,” and repeated the spell as he carefully dragged his wand across the wound until it closed completely.

Remus’s breath came raggedly after that, but it was free from the cries of pain. James let out a sigh of relief and dropped down so that his head was pressed against the arm of the couch.

“Were you attacked?” Emmeline asked.

Remus smiled wryly. “It was brief.” His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

Lily grabbed an empty glass off the table and filled it with her wand. James helped Remus drink it while Sirius watched with clouded eyes.

When Remus had a few small sips of water, he reached behind him and produced James’s wand. “Was sticking in my back.”

James grinned sheepishly, “Must’ve fallen out of my pocket.” He took his wand from Remus. “I’ll let Dumbledore know Remus is alright. We can send a full report tomorrow.”

Lily glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m afraid it is tomorrow and we’ve up and missed the New Year.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus said. “I didn’t mean--”

“Hush,” Lily said, “I’ll get us a toast together while James gets word to Dumbledore.”

James was halfway up the steps when he heard Emmeline say, “Remus, you’re running a terrible fever. Are you sure--” But James knew the fever was expected on a day like today.

He conjured his patronus and sent the deer bounding off with a message: Remus was safe, and further information would follow in the morning.

Back downstairs, James fixed a cool towel for Remus’s fever, and Lily got everyone a cup of tea. Sirius, Peter, and Marlene took coffee.

“Who attacked you? How?” James asked as he put the towel over Remus’s forehead.

“They wore masks,” Remus sighed. He tried sitting up, but James put a gentle hand on his shoulder to keep him still. “I stopped off in London, just to deliver a message. Guess I got caught off guard.”

“Dumbledore shouldn’t have you running errands like that this close to--” James stopped, glanced over to where Marlene and Eli were, and said, “--the holidays. It’s not very fair.”

“I’ll be alright,” Remus said.

“You almost weren’t,” Peter said quietly, turning his wand over in his hands.

“I guess it’s a good thing I have friends.” He gave James a lopsided smile. James squeezed his shoulder encouragingly.

Sirius stepped outside, and Marlene got to her feet. She set her mug down on the table. “I think I’m good to Apparate. I’d like to get Eli home.”

“Are you sure?” Lily asked.

Marlene nodded. “The adrenaline of it all definitely helped. Thanks for having us.”

James and Lily walked them to the door. On the front porch, out of Remus’s earshot, they apologized for putting Eli in a potentially dangerous situation.

“I’m old enough to know what’s going on,” Eli said. “I read the Prophet.”

“Not the same as seeing it,” Marlene said. “We’ll talk about it before you go to sleep. I do not need Mom blaming me for your nightmares.”

“I’m not going to get nightmares,” Eli protested, just before they left the Potters’ front yard.

Lily started to go back inside, but James said, “I’m going to find Sirius real quick.”

Lily nodded, and James knew exactly where to look-the old oak tree on the side of the estate. He found Sirius sitting a few branches up. Just like when they were thirteen.

James climbed up and settled into a crook a branch below Sirius. “Alright, mate? Sober enough not to fall?”

Sirius snorted a laugh.

“Is it about Remus?” James tried again.

“It’s the whole damn war,” Sirius mumbled, eyes closed, head pressed against the bark. “Feel like you don’t even know who you are anymore. Everything’s worth more than your life or it’s not worth anything. What’s left.”

“You have us,” James said. “You’ve got me and Lily and Remus and Peter. You have us. We’re worth all that. And you’re worth it to us.”

Sirius didn’t seem affected by this at all. James didn’t know what to say. It was usually Remus who dealt with Sirius’s moods. Even after eight years, sometimes James felt like he would never really know Sirius in his core. Not like Remus did.

“You know Remus isn’t a Death Eater.”

Sirius took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Sometimes you know things, and sometimes the things you know get all twisted up, and you don’t know what you know anymore.”

“You know us. You know none of us would turn on each other.”

“Your unwavering faith in humanity astounds me, Prongs.”

“Not in humanity, just in my friends. I have no faith in Lucius Malfoy or Evan Rosier, except faith that they will forever be pretentious gits who insist on brushing their hair before carrying out any of You-Know-Who’s commands.”

This, finally, got a laugh out of Sirius. “Fair enough, mate.”

They both climbed down and went inside. Emmeline and Lily had gotten champagne glasses filled, and the company shared a belated toast to the New Year, and as James finished his glass, he knew all he wanted out of 1980 was his friends to be safe, the war to end, and for he and his wife to have a wonderful, happy family together.


	9. June 27, 1969, Sirius Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius and Narcissa have a rare moment together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an anon prompted me this on tumblr MONTHS ago and i avoided it because I don't know how to write Sirius outside the context of the marauders but i finally sat down and did it today and I actually was really pleased with it I hope you like it too

**June 27, 1969 Sirius Black**

Sirius Black bit down on his pillow so hard he thought he could taste the goose it had been stuffed with. His cheeks were hot with embarrassment and his back burned from the dittany. The dittany, at least, didn’t hurt as bad as the lashes had, and it would be over soon.

“You always push her,” Narcissa sighed and capped the bottle of dittany. “If you wouldn’t act up so much, be more like--” but she didn’t finish.

She didn’t have to. Sirius heard it from everyone. From his father, his mother, his aunt, his cousins, the portraits--”Why can’t you be more like Regulus?”

Sirius knew it would make things easier if he was quiet, polite, well-mannered. But he just wasn’t. He didn’t know how to be the person Regulus was. Regulus was barely eight, what did Regulus know? Sirius was, far more mature. He was nearly ten now, and his letter for Hogwarts would be arriving in a short year.

“Is school easier?” he asked around the pillow.

“It isn’t easy,” Narcissa laughed. “Potions, and Transfiguration, and Charms, and essays--It’s a lot of work.”

“But is it easier than sitting at dinner, listening to Father talk about politics, without charming the gravy boat to sing _Frère Jacques_ every time Grandfather nods off?”

Narcissa put a hand over the giggle that barely made its way past her mouth. Sirius hated how good at decorum Narcissa was. Andromeda was the only one who genuinely laughed at his jokes, and had tried defending the gravy boat, saying, “It was all in good fun.” Which it was, but no one else understood that. Except Uncle Alphard, but Uncle Alphard was in North Africa.

“It is easier than that,” she agreed. “The common room is wonderful. There are green silk banners, and it’s under the Black Lake. There’s a window that looks under the water. Drommie says you can see mermaids, but I think she’s lying. I didn’t see any mermaids all year. And in the dorms, the ceilings are like glass, and you can look up and see the sky through the water. In the mornings the sun filters down and it’s like being in the ocean. And the Great Hall has all the food you could ever want. And Professor Slughorn is the head of house and he’s so nice. Really, you’ll love it.”

Sirius rolled over onto his back. It already felt like it was supposed to. He looked up at Narcissa and smiled. “I can’t wait. We’ll have so much fun.”

“Another two years,” she said. “And you can learn much better charms than making the gravy boat sing.”

Sirius sat up. “And Bella will be graduated, so I won’t have to worry about her making me do my homework.”

Narcissa playfully pushed him back down. “I’ll make you do your homework, silly. And Drommie will too.”

Sirius made a gross face and Narcissa shoved the pillow onto him.

“Dork,” she said, and got up. “You’re gonna get in trouble if you get bad grades at school, you know.”

“Oh no, how ever will I manage? Being in trouble? Goodness, that’s so not like me.”

“Ten-year-olds aren’t allowed to be as sarcastic as you are.”

Sirius took the pillow and hit her shoulder with it. “I’m mature for my age. Drommie says so.”

Narcissa stuck her tongue out him, grabbed another pillow, and hit him. Sirius stuck his tongue out and hit her back.

And while Sirius bandaged the aches in his heart with goose-feathered pillows and what would be one of the last pleasant nights with his cousin, in the east, somewhere off the coast of Ireland, another boy nursed his own physical aches with beef broth, hot chocolate, and a mother’s warm kiss.


	10. October 24, 1981, Sirius Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make plans for the Fidelius Charm, and Sirius confronts them all with the inevitability of his death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was prompted by my own masochistic self-hatred. I went on a rant to a friend about the night the Potter's died, and about Sirius making Peter the Secret Keeper, and realized that if Sirius had been the Secret Keeper, and the Death Eaters had gone after him and killed him, the Fidelius Charm would have been weakened (like when Dumbledore died and the secret of Grimmauld Place was made shareable). So Sirius basically used Peter not bc he thought Peter was weak and would avoid suspicion, but because he knew how great the suspicion would be on him and I just--I got really upset about it so I wrote a thing.

James paced the living room, bouncing Harry gently as he did so. “What do you mean Remus isn’t coming?”

“We’ve had this conversation.” Sirius sat down on the couch between Peter and Lily. “It’s just going to be me and Peter here.”

Lily tucked some of her hair behind her ear and wiped a warm cloth over the pacifier in her lap. “Does it matter either way? He’d be under the Fidelius Charm, and unable to speak the secret at all.”

“Only until they kill me,” Sirius said quietly.

Lily paused, clean pacifier halfway to James’s outstretched hand, and James stopped bouncing Harry just long enough for Harry to start whining.

“You mean if,” James said, and gave Harry the pacifier.

Sirius shook his head. He couldn’t meet James’ or Lily’s eyes, so instead he looked at Harry. “Everyone knows I’m your closest friend. I was your best man at your wedding. I’m Harry’s godfather. I guarantee that most of those Death Eaters know my parents, and they probably know I ran away to your family when I left mine. It won’t take long for You-Know-Who to send Death Eaters looking for me. And when they kill me, anyone under the Fidelius Charm can tell the secret.”

Peter looked white as a ghost, and Sirius didn’t blame him. He felt on the inside just how Peter looked on the outside, but he hoped for James’ and Lily’s sakes, he looked braver.

“That’s why,” he said slowly, “I think Peter should be your Secret Keeper. They’ll come after me, but it won’t affect the Charm. Nothing will change when I die. They can torture me all they want, but I won’t be able to say anything. And when they kill me, the Secret Keeper won’t pass to anyone else. And they won’t come after Peter. And you’ll be safe.”

James handed Harry to Lily and left the room. Lily bounced Harry gently on one knee. “You didn’t have to say it like that,” she said quietly.

“It’s the truth. If we don’t face it like it is, you’ll all be killed. We’re doing this for Harry.”

“You could’ve said it any number of ways.” Her voice shook only a little. Sirius wondered if he imagined it, because her face looked stronger than he could dream of feeling right now. “You could’ve told James Peter was just a safer option. You don’t have to present yourself as a walking sacrifice.”

“Might as well prepare him for it now.”

“No. Now he’ll only worry the whole time we’re stuck here.” Lily got up and handed Harry to Peter, who gulped as he took the baby. Lily went into the kitchen after James.

Sirius rubbed at his forehead. “You know I’m right, Pete. It has to be you. You can hide. You can be small and quick. They won’t come after you.”

“But--you’re saying even if I do it, they’ll still kill you. Sirius, you can’t do that.”

“They’ll come after me whether I’m the Secret Keeper or not. And as long as I’m not, they won’t be able to weaken the Fidelius Charm by killing me.”

Peter whimpered, a pitiful sound, reminiscent of their second year when they’d learned Remus was a werewolf. Sirius felt a small pang of simultaneous guilt and hurt. But he shook it off. He was being careful for James’s sake, and Lily’s and Harry’s. He would do everything he could to survive to the end of the war, but there was no doubt in Sirius’s mind that he would not be able to survive for very long.

James and Lily came back into the living room. Peter quickly handed Harry back to James, who looked only a little bit better. His hazel eyes could not seem to meet Sirius’s, but his voice was a little stronger as he said, “Alright. You win. If Peter wants, we agree it would be best for him to be our Secret Keeper. But you have to promise me--” now he managed to lock eyes with Sirius, “--you have to promise you’ll do everything you can to stay alive.”

Sirius nodded. “I’m already planning to try to lead them south, away from you.”

“You can’t let them catch you, for any reason.”

Sirius had no plans on getting caught. Unless he thought it could protect his friends. But he knew from the sharp glare behind James’s glasses that James was begging him not to get caught, even to protect them. Which was unfair, because he knew James would do the same for him if he was the one who was in danger.

“Alright, I promise.”


End file.
